


and thereto i pledge thee my faith

by Meatball42



Category: Original Work
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Dubious Consent, First Time, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Marriage, Masochism, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: Travaal had yearned to be king since he’d reached majority and realized the kinds of laws Xari had been creating, the way he’d led. But he hadn’t had the idea—he hadn’t felt the urgency—to poison his brother until he’d seen the way Xari treated his husband.
Relationships: New King/His Cruel Older Brother's Widowed Husband (Original Work)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Red Team





	and thereto i pledge thee my faith

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ba_lailah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ba_lailah/gifts).



Xari’s funeral took three days, and Travaal’s coronation another. It had been three days since the death of the king, and finally the new king had a moment to himself.

King Travaal, Seventeenth Ruler of Escriveer. It was about time, Travaal thought as he stepped out of his dinner boots and reclined on a sofa. Not that he’d been counting the years, and more recently the days, while his older brother drew closer to death. Travaal considered the special tincture, dripped in Xari’s cup by a selectively loyal advisor, to be his own personal service to the kingdom.

The old king had not been a kind one. Escriveer had prospered under his reign, but at the expense of freedoms. Travaal’s brother had not felt that the voices of his people were worth listening to. As always, he’d known best.

Not only in his public life did he hold such a view. Travaal had yearned to be king since he’d reached majority and realized the kinds of laws Xari had been creating, the way he’d led. But he hadn’t had the idea—he hadn’t felt the urgency—to poison his brother until he’d seen the way Xari treated his husband.

Rallee was a younger son of a neighboring kingdom, and as such had been raised to be a good submissive spouse to someone ruling their own country. By everything Travaal had seen, peripherally while engaged with his own duties and his own concubines, Rallee was a model consort.

But as the Millers Union went on strike for the second year in a row right in the middle of a pestilence among crops in the southern isles, Travaal noticed that Rallee had become quieter and more and more submissive. Disapproving servants talked, and it wasn’t long before Travaal learned the kinds of perverse activities Xari was forcing poor Rallee to suffer. 

Rallee was… well, in Travaal’s opinion Rallee was incredible. From the west, his people were descended from horsemen, and it was plain to see in his long, strong limbs and his grace, whether he was on horseback or fencing or dancing at a feste. His hair was kept longer than the Escriven norm, reaching the base of his neck in dark gold waves, and when the wind caught it…

Travaal would not go so far as to covet his brother’s husband. He had a good many consorts of his own, though none with the standing to become a spouse. But the idea of having Rallee, his quiet smiles and thoughtful commentary at family luncheons, his plump lips and exotic hazel eyes... Rallee who he hadn’t seen smile in months…

Rallee who had, by law, become Travaal’s husband upon the death of the old king...

Rallee who was knocking at the door.

Travel sat up straight on the sofa and looked around for something to hold. He grabbed a book and opened it on his lap, anything to make it look as though he hadn’t been staring into the fire and fantasizing about his soon-to-be spouse.

The chamber door opened and Rallee entered. Decked in finery as befitting a coronation, his pace across the room was needfully slow. When he reached the sitting area, he knelt at Travaal’s feet and bowed his head.

“Your Highness,” he murmured.

Travaal gently removed the heavy circlet from Rallee’s head and placed it on a nearby stool. Tentatively, he let his fingertips brush Rallee’s hair, marvelling at the strands which looked as dark as grain in the sun and felt as soft as silk.

“We’re married now,” Travaal reminded him. “You needn’t be so formal.”

Rallee smiled, but didn’t raise his head. “I wait on your command, Your Highness.”

Travaal had to swallow, his mouth suddenly wet. He guided Rallee’s head up with careful hands until Rallee was looking up at him. His wide face, turned up in this way, reminded Travaal of a flower looking toward the sun, of a loyal dog watching its master.

“Just having you is more than enough,” Travaal swore. He brushed Rallee’s hair back from his face, cradling the other man’s head between his hands. “You are a treasure, wasted on such a brute as my brother.”

Rallee’s generous mouth pursed, and he looked away from Travaal for the first time. Travaal soothed him, stroking his jaw and neck, and sat forward on the sofa so he could hold Rallee between his legs.

“Don’t worry, dear one. Xari can’t hurt you anymore. I made sure of that.”

Rallee’s eyes became huge. “You…”

“I had to protect you.” Travaal curled his body to kiss Rallee’s forehead. “You deserve better.”

Rallee didn’t move for a long minute. His eyes squeezed shut and his shoulders quivered, but he stayed still on his knees between Travaal’s legs, left his face in Travaal’s hands. Travaal marvelled at the strength his new husband showed: even in his relief he was beautiful and obedient.

“Thank you, Your Highness," Rallee whispered.

Travaal couldn’t help the affectionate look that came over his face, the way his finger curled in Rallee’s hair. “What did I say about addressing me?” he corrected fondly.

“Thank you, Travaal,” Rallee repeated.

With emotion swelling in his throat, Travaal could only kiss Rallee’s forehead again.

When he had gathered up his control again, he stood, and guided Rallee up with him. Though Rallee had a few centimeters on Travaal in height, he kept his head bowed and his gaze lowered even when Travaal took his hand and attempted to meet his gaze.

“It’s our first night as a wedded couple,” he reminded Rallee, for the coronation had included the acknowledgement of Travaal’s receiving his brother’s widowed spouse. Not as grand as a wedding, but just as meaningful to his mind. Travaal bit his lip. “What would you like to do? Anything you like,” he swore, his gaze dropping of its own accord to Travaal’s beautiful lips.

He flushed when Rallee smiled shyly. “I’m rather tired, after all of the pomp and circumstance. Perhaps we could rest tonight?”

“Of course,” Travaal agreed. “We can retire early after consummating the marriage. What I meant was, how would you bind us together?”

He took Rallee’s hand and twined their fingers together as he spoke. Even Rallee’s skin felt perfect against his.

But Rallee looked sad now. His long lashes fluttered and he swallowed as though in sadness.

“My dear…?”

“I think… there has been a lot of riding the past few days,” Rallee said slowly. “Perhaps, something gentle.”

Travaal raised Rallee’s hand to his lips and held it to his mouth. He had to close his eyes. Surely Rallee was not still sore from Xari’s untender handling? Travaal’s heart hurt at the thought of causing any pain to his new spouse.

“Whatever you wish, dear Rallee, however you wish it.”

Travaal opened his eyes and found himself fixed with a hard, calculating gaze. He blinked in surprise, realizing that he was facing, now, the intelligence that had kept up with Xari for years.

And then Rallee’s expression softened. The confusingly sad look came back to his eyes, but before Travaal could attempt to comfort him, Rallee leaned down and brushed his lips against Travaal’s.

Such was his anticipation that Travaal’s heart pounded in his chest from that barely-there touch. He took Rallee’s hips in his hands and pulled them close as they met in their first real kiss.

Travaal removed Rallee’s ceremonial robes as they moved toward the bed chamber, and Rallee returned the favor. Travaal wanted to touch every new centimeter of skin as it was uncovered, when when they shed their bottommost layer he froze.

Rallee, a mere step away from the bed, sat down, and then realized that Travaal was not following. “Is everything all right?”

“Your skin,” Travaal said, aghast. 

Rallee looked down, and then carefully touched the marks that littered his body. There were marks from teeth, and from fingers. On Rallee’s thighs, there were strange lines, bruises and cuts, that followed each other in a distinctive pattern.

“Did he switch you?” Travaal could barely breathe enough to get the words out.

Rallee reached out and Travaal was immediately in his husband’s arms, ghosting touches over his arms and back to comfort him against the memories. “I apologize, of course you needn’t speak of it.”

“Travaal, don’t worry. These marks… they did not cause me pain. Or, I should say… they did not cause me any pain that I did not ask for.”

Travaal felt a sickness in his gut as from eating rotten food. “Did my brother make you… ask for this?”

“No,” Rallee said firmly, and Travaal could find no lie in his face. “For me, a certain amount of pain, delivered by a loving hand, feels good.”

“No, no,” Travaal muttered, shaking his head. “No. I am not a tyrant like my brother. You will not need to search for love in the hand that hurts you, not with me.”

“Travaal—”

Travaal kissed Rallee until he gave up his poor, manipulated protests. “Not another word on it. We will find joy together, not pain. That is in the past.”

Rallee sighed and accepted Travaal’s promise, and they retired to their honeymoon bed.

  
  
  
  
  


Travaal woke to a most glorious portrait: the morning sun bathing Rallee in golden light. He sat against the head of their bed and drank in his fill.

Rallee’s body, strong from spending his spare time with horses and hunting. Despite the marks left by Xari, he was one of the most beautiful people Travaal had bedded. And the marks would soon fade, leaving fully in the past any memory of pain for Rallee, and any memory of hands beside Travaal’s touching him.

Rallee’s sweet mouth, reddened and swollen from their kisses and their love-making. Rallee’s long locks, twisted and tousled from Travaal’s hands, when he had begged Travaal to pull his hair while he worshipped and Travaal, despite his best intentions, could not resist. He recalled the way Rallee had flushed and moaned, sounds stifled by Travaal’s manhood, and had to adjust his seating on the mattress.

Rallee’s lashes fluttered as he began to wake up. Travaal was blessed to watch every twitch, every little stretch. He alone got to see the dreamy smile on Rallee’s face before his eyes cracked open.

“Xari,” Ralle murmured.

Travaal’s heart thumped painfully, but he merely stroked an unruly lock away from Rallee’s face as he returned to the waking world.

When Rallee’s eyes focused on Travaal, he flinched.

“All is well, my love,” Travaal soothed. "Xari is gone. You never have to see him again.”

Rallee had to close his eyes tight with relief again.

“You’re mine now,” Travaal said lovingly, tracing the delicate curve of his husband’s ear.

Without opening his eyes, Rallee bent forward and kissed Travaal’s thigh. “I am yours.”

And now, Travaal thought, his heart full of hope and love, they would live happily ever after.


End file.
